“For mysafety?” I ask, my voice hitting a higher note. Boyd’s eyes are pleading. He seems like a nice guy, polite and well mannered, and the way the patched members seem to give him shit constantly almost makes me feel sorry for him, but how do I know Sean really sent him?
“I think I’ll wait right here.”
“Fucking Christ.” Boyd rubs his forehead and pulls hisphone out. I watch for my bus as he texts, and not thirty seconds later a message comes through on my phone.
YOUR BOSS
Get in the truck, Layla.
You’re late.
YOUR BOSS
Something came up, this isn’t a game. I won’t tell you twice.
A chill runs through me. I know there’s no playing with him right now. I look up at Boyd, who’s still waiting expectantly just as my bus rounds the corner.
“We good?” Boyd asks.
Fuck.“Yes.” I scowl at him and head for the truck. “You have to stop at my place so I can at least change.” I look down at my scrubs.
“As long as you’re quick. Ax said to take you right to the club.”
“I’ll be quick,” I say as he climbs in and starts the engine. I look out the window as he backs out of the parking space. It’s not his fault Ax is a caveman who sent someone to fetch me like I was his property. I’ll take that up with him though, the first chance I get.
“What do you mean? I thought you had to take me to the club?” I ask Boyd as I stand freshly showered and dressed in comfortable jeans, a white t-shirt and my favorite Chucks. My feet are too sore to put heels on tonight.
“He changed his mind. He wants us to stay here, said he was on his way. Like I said, I’m not trying to get my ass kicked and I don’t question when he tells me what to do.”
“A lesson you should take to heart, little dove.” Sean’s voice speaking directly to me makes me jump. I didn’t even hear him come in. I spin around to face him, already pissed that I was picked up by his guy like some package, but the moment I see him, my anger dies and turns to fear. I’ve seen him serious, I’ve seen him commanding, but I’ve not seen him angry and right now he looks really fucking angry. As he turns to face Boyd, I gasp. His cheekbone is split open and a bruise is blooming there. Dried blood is caked to his skin and a few smears of fresh blood line his cheek below the gash. He’s also filthy, with what looks like dirt and sweat covering his neck and shirt. My eyes move to his knuckles as he approaches the kitchen sink. They’re busted open and bloody.
“Wait outside on the porch,” Sean says to Boyd. “Keep watch until we leave.” That’s when I notice something else in his eyes, something I haven’t seen before. Like he’s holding the horrors of the day there. “You need to call into work. You’re not going,” he says to me.
I don’t even argue, I just nod, because there’s no arguing with the look in Sean’s eyes right now.
Boyd doesn’t waste time arguing either; he just nods at me and leaves as Sean begins to scrub his hands clean. My breathing increases as I begin to understand why he didn’t show. He obviously couldn’t, and was involved with something for the club that I probably don’t want to know about.
Sean keeps his eyes trained on mine as he walks by me and heads down the hall to my bathroom. “We’ll talk after,” is all he says.
I wait a few seconds while a silent war wages in my head. The second I saw Sean come through my door battered andfilthy, my heart dropped, and the last thing I care about now is him missing his appointment. The last thing I want to do is fight what is happening. All I want to do is go to him, crawl into his strong arms and make sure he’s okay, the same way he made sure I was okay last night.
I move quickly toward the bathroom door. It isn’t fully closed and there’s a sliver of light peeking through. When I push open the door, Sean is standing at the sink. I can tell he’s tense, because the muscles in his back are rigid. The water is running as he checks out his injuries. He looks at me over his shoulder in the mirror. After I grab a fresh cloth from the linen closet, my eyes can’t roam his skin fast enough. Sean’s naked body is on full display, and he’s a force to be reckoned with. He’s taut and flexed, covered in sweat, with blood dripping down his face, and he isn’t self-conscious in the slightest as he stares at me with those haunted eyes. He’s incredible. My gladiator.
I’m desperate to reach out and touch him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Layla
I move closer, handing the cloth to him, and he takes it, running it under hot water before shutting the tap off then beginning to wash his face. He hisses when he hits the wound and it starts to bleed even more profusely than it already was.
“It looks deep,” I say.
“It’s fine,” he grunts as he runs the cloth under the water again and wrings it out.
“It needs stitches.”
“Nah, don’t worry about that right now.” His voice is low and firm.
